It could only get worst
by Azusa-Yume
Summary: Mihashi was attacked by a group of discontented supporters of an opposing team. In exchanging of not breaking his arm, Mihashi promised to do anything which resulted in a humiliating video being sent to Abe. Warning: noncon, rape, use of drugs and sex toys. Abe/Mihashi


Disclaimer: I do not own Oofuri.

Warnings: Non-con, rape, use of aphrodisiacs, vibrators and cock ring. Strictly R-18.

A/N: This is a 3 years old prompt from a life-journal group and I wanted to write it. Since the prompt is so old, I decided to post it here instead.

Summary (Credits to the anon who came up with this marvelous idea): Mihashi is followed home by a group of other team's supporters, not quite pleased by Nishiura's winning streak.  
They beat him up REALLY badly, and when they decide to break his pitching arm, Mihashi begs them not to, promising to do ANYTHING.  
And so he does.  
_[insert noncon, pain and humiliation here]_  
Everyone has their way with Mihashi and take some photos. Just before they leave him in a nearby park, they dial this 'abe-kun's number for barely conscious pitcher, so that his cries for help could finally reach his catcher.

* * *

**Mihashi's verse. **

There was a comforting warmness radiating within him, Mihashi never knew victory felt so satisfying. As long as he's with Abe-kun, he could keep winning. He doesn't want this elated thrill to ever disappear. It was as if the days in Mihoshi never occurred, this was proof that he existed. That he was no longer neglected and instead needed by his team. It gave meaning to his mundane life.

The crystallized memories of today's triumph reiterated in his brain, of the unforgettably booming cheers from the audience as the ump announced 'safe' on their winning run. They were congratulated with an overwhelming standing ovation and the name of their school being repeated as if an everlasting chant. He doesn't want to forget the assuring slap on his back every time he strikes out the opponent team, neither could he conceal his joy each time he delivered a 'nice pitch'.

This was all due to Abe-Kun. The only person that saw his worth and salvaged him from the eternal hopelessness and dread. It was with him that Mihashi felt that it was alright to keep loving baseball. He would be useful to Abe-kun as long as he follows his lead and throw accordingly, without Abe-kun he would once again be denounced as a nobody. He would lose his existence. But it was okay, because Abe-kun promised to be his catcher. As long as he followed Abe-kun's instructions, he would never get deserted again.

Lost in his chain of thoughts, Mihashi doesn't notice the sinister presence stalking him. Doesn't sense the hateful glares observing his every movement, awaiting the chance to harm him. And that chance arises when he inevitably cross the isolated park masked by darkness. Oblivious as he was, Mihashi did not realize the danger he's in until he was struck on the back of his head. A resounding 'thud' speared through the otherwise tranquil night as he hits the dirt unceremoniously.

The world spun out of focus when he tried to register what just happened, his vision faded into splotches of distorted images. Mihashi could pick up faint noises that transient into words, but he didn't have the time to ponder over the meaning before he was smitten again. This time, in the stomach. He curls up instinctively to alleviate the stinging discomfort, but only to be greeted by another one immediately.

Mihashi finally realized that he was being assaulted.

Arrays of confusion raced across his mind, did he offend someone? He must have did something wrong, that's why he was punished. It must be because he was obnoxious, or maybe he was too conceited in the victory which wasn't even his to claim. For whatever the reason was, he was getting beaten up. He deserved it... He needed to apologize in hopes that they'll stop, because it was all his fault. He made these strangers hate him...

Through the distressed cries, he sobbed, "I'...m so..rry..." repetitiously.

Of course, they didn't. Not even when his voice went dry and hoarse. He heard laughter, insults and mockery.

"This pathetic shit is their pitcher?"

"I can't believe we lost to this trash today!"

"Lets break his arm! So he'll never get to pitch again!" Another had suggested, the statement was clearer than a death verdict. And Mihashi panics.

No, no, no...

If he couldn't pitch, Abe-kun would ignore him, no one will acknowledge him... And he will be thrown back into that hell he tried so hard to escape from. He would vanish from everyone's sight. It would be the same as not being alive at all. He doesn't want to vanish... He wouldn't be able to step on that mound ever again. Overtaken by despair, Mihashi screams, a horrid, ear-piercing shriek,

"No! Don't!"

He could taste the coppery blood in his mouth. Adrenaline numbed senses dominated whatever physical torment with sheer, concentrated panic. The brutal strikes paused, followed by a painful tug of his hair which lifted his head up. Mihashi could faintly see at least six blurred silhouettes completely surrounding him, there was no escape.

He was completely at their mercy.

And their replies were nonetheless benignant. Mihashi could distinguish the sadistic amusement in their tone, they hadn't the slightest idea of sparing him. He fidgeted desperately when one of them gripped his left arm and twisted it in an awkward angle. He felt his shoulders cracked distastefully, and the unbearable discomfort that shot down his joints. They were really going to break it, and Mihashi tussled against it with no avail. They were going to break it... They were going to break it... They were going to break it...

The thoughts resonated through his head, anxiety forming tears poured out of his eye sockets.

"Stop it... Stop it..." He repeated weakly.

They only applied more force, his bones protested disagreeably and Mihashi cried louder. His limb was being compressed to the limit, it wasn't going to held out. His arm was really going to snap. The moment of concentrated dismay tore through his throat as a wail, clearer then glass.

"Stop! I'll do anything! So..." He cried tragically. He couldn't see with his blood clouded vision, but he felt the long awaited relinquish. The abused arm fell inanimately at his side. It wasn't broken, but Mihashi couldn't feel it anymore. He had taken some undeniable damage, and Mihashi wasn't eager to find out. Of course, his assailants weren't about to spare him either.

"Let's teach him some manners, shall we?"

Mihashi stared blankly into the distant horizon, his eyes were dry and tears no longer flowed. He could barely remain conscious and it took him utter willpower to refrain from passing out. The darkness was all the more alluring, but god knows what would happen to him if he fainted. Mihashi wasn't ready to leave, he has yet fulfilled his dreams. He wanted to play more baseball with everyone... With Abe-kun.

He was glad that he met Abe-kun...

Each time he closes his eyes, he lapsed from awareness. He could have sworn he heard familiar voices calling out for him, comforting him. Only to be hit by the forceful backlash of reality when he opened them again, no one was coming to rescue him... Only six towering figures before him enjoying his anguish. He was hallucinating... and it was so tempting... It was so tempting to just abandon the world behind and slip into his inner conscience. The voices became less distinct, but he could vaguely register their conversation, it appears that they too had noticed Mihashi's demise.

That he was about to give up...They can't have that. It's no fun fucking someone that's unconscious. They wanted to see him struggle, to see him lament. Because they had way, way horrendous things planned ahead.

Mihashi couldn't gauge the amount of time that passed since his outburst, but it felt like forever before they finished their discussion. He needed to call for help... In spite of his unresponsive body being akin to dead weight, now that the adrenaline settled, every part of him ached. He inched his uninjured hand towards his back pocket for the phone. The cool metal plating felt like ice to his bruised, shaky fingers. If only he could dial the numbers. He fiddles with the device desperately. This might be his only chance, while they were still caught up in debate.

Fate was perhaps deriding him as well, because one of them noticed what he was up to. The attention was directed back immediately. A bespectacled figure crouched down beside him and wrung the phone out of his hands, Mihashi couldn't even put up a fight.

"Looks like you got lonely didn't cha'?"

The older man taunted,

"Let's use it after all!"

Another added as he signaled the third to fish out something from his pockets.

"These will make you feel really... really... good."

Mihashi saw a cluster of white before it was forced into his mouth. They were pills... Bitter... powdery pills, he didn't know what it does, but Mihashi had to spit it out. He had to, but he couldn't, they muffled his mouth shut with a palm and ended with a threat,

"Swallow it, or else you'll never be using your arm again."

Mihashi nodded desperately at that comment, his eyes widen with fear as he did. Anything but his arm. He obeyed meekly.

"Good boy."

He felt the hold loosen, and Mihashi rasped for air, he didn't know when he started holding his breath, but he was glad that he stopped. The oxygen travelling down his lungs felt comforting, soothing the sting in his windpipe. He looked at them cautiously, but doesn't question.

"How long does it take for the drug to take effect?" the bleached hair assaulter asked,

"Give him about five minutes and he'll be begging like a slut." was the reply.

Mihashi just weeped somberly, will someone rush to his aid? Was he worth the trouble saving? His battered body was sore and numb, and head unable to apprehend the situation. He knew they were going to execute horrible deeds upon him and there was no way he could prevent it. How much longer would this torment have to last.

This was just the beginning...

He already missed the softness of his bed, and the velvety of his blanket. He desired nothing more but to tuck himself in after a long exhilarating day of hard work. No one would have foreseen his calamitous encounter... Not his parents, not Abe-kun...

Abe-kun... He thought solemnly, was Abe-kun aware that he's missing? It was perhaps wishful thinking that he did. Abe-kun has a life outside him, as much as it pained Mihashi to admit, Abe-kun didn't belong to him. It's only natural that he'll be occupied with other things as well.

No one was coming to his rescue...

He heard the voices of his tormentors again, inaudible syllabus formed into unstructured sentences. Mihashi couldn't comprehend what they were conversing, his mind swirled together with a sharp, reoccurring throb. He couldn't concentrate and thoughts were jumbling into disorientation. The background noise suddenly seemed so unnecessarily loud.

There was an animalistic craving surging within him, one that he wasn't accustomed to. It was akin to the excitement when he stood on the mound, but much more intense. It all fell into a pit of searing heat in his stomach and it radiated through his entirety. It was disturbing, Mihashi wanted something, but he wasn't sure what.

Or rather, he denied it, because in the back of his head, Mihashi knew that this was none other then lust. An amplified, undiluted well of lust.

Mihashi could feel the undesirable heat on his cheeks, he was flustered, and grasping for air. His heart hammered heavily in his chest and he could hear the unsettling rhythm going disarray. He sensed the shadows closing in on him, but doesn't make eye contact. He doesn't want to be seen in this ludicrous state. It was so humiliating.

He flinched anxiously when he felt a tightened hold on his shoulders, lifting him up. The feeling was unwarranted, yet so, so unjustifiably alluring. He wanted to be touched in lots of places more then just that.

It was wrong, wrong, wrong. That his body ached with pain, desire and lasciviousness. He was disgusting. His back was against another's chest when he was pulled into sitting, the warmth was so inviting. The friction of his clothes seemingly mocked him, and it wasn't enough, he needed more. His disobedient, hormone induced condition urged him to grind feverishly, but his mind denied it all.

"He's such a slut!"

Mihashi heard the comment from the one that restrained him, the surge of hot air that hit his neck each time the man spoke or breath felt like a tease. He hated this intensified sensation, yet his body couldn't contradict how good it was despite his continuous rejection.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

He shook his head involuntarily at the derision,

"Liar!" The assaulter accused, "when you're already like this." Something rough and heavy was pressed between his legs, a jolt of excitement shot down his spine. He was being stepped on, but his accursed, defiant body relished it. The resistance was so dreadfully good. He wanted to wince away from the touch, but his legs slapped close instead.

The rough surface of the shoe against his inner thighs were burning, and when the man did apply force on the sensitive skin, Mihashi was left panting for air. A disgruntled moan escapes his throat,

"Ah...h... St...op... it..." He begs through incoherent words, but was shot down instantly.

"Stop it? You want me to stop?" Came the melodious, aloof tone scorning him.

Mihashi nodded, yet clenched his legs tighter. Something was so, terribly wrong with him. They fed him aphrodisiacs, and an awfully strong one too. The toil almost impossible to handle, every nerve within him was confused, excited and burning at the same time. He wasn't going to last, there were shudders in his lower abdomen, and it hurts, it hurts so much. He wanted it so badly... He wanted to be abused... He wanted to be sullied, he wanted... lusted... needed...

He couldn't say, he was so dirty, corrupted and pathetic, even his mentality was slowly crumbling. It was so easy to give in, to beg for deliverance, to beg them to fuck him hard and rough into the ground. There were tears welling in his eyes, of his frustration and embarrassment, he wanted to deny even harboring these immoral thoughts, yet they haunted him persistently. He was no better then any of them.

The obscene whimpers that escaped his mouth were raspy and barely distinguishable, but it was incontrovertibly his voice.

"I...ah...h...don't...wa...want this...Sto...p"

Mihashi lied, and it was so, so obvious.

"You're a stubborn little brat, aren't you?"

The restrainer behind him mocked, tracing his hands up his torso, caressing the flexing muscles and each individual rib supporting that skinny frame. His fingers were warm against his sweat moistened skin. The grazes were feather light, leaving the trail of touch tingling and hungering for more. And when those long, slender fingers did touch his nipples, his back arched instinctively. Mihashi never knew he was so sensitive, perhaps he wasn't. It was all due to the drug that it felt like every nerve receptor has an amplifier attached to it.

He hated this, hated the sounds that he made, the tears that he couldn't control, and most of all the arousal stirring a thunderstorm within him as he released.

"He came already?"

"What a whore!"

"Someone record this!"

It was an unpleasant sensation, wet, sticky and mortifying he wanted to dive into a bottomless pit and bury himself.

"Hey, you, lick this mess up."

The heavy leather footwear was lifted to his face, Mihashi almost wept at the loss, the fabric on his pants was too light, too gentle and... No, he shook the feeling off. He was so despicable, that he actually orgasm from being stepped on. He must be such a masochist. He averted his eyes, unwilling to face the towering figure.

"Didn't I tell you to lick it, you slut."

Mihashi felt the cold, sandy surface of the sole pressed against his cheeks and a little wetness from his previous disgracing display. The loud, commanding voice sent him quivering, and he dared not defy. He could only cry as he submitted to the orders of the looming man. It was repulsive, he wished in a tiny portion of his heart, that Abe-kun would come to his rescue. It was selfish of him, he didn't want Abe-kun to get injured for his sake, but that selfishness lingered. He hoped to see Abe-kun...

_Save me... Abe-kun..._

No, he didn't want Abe-kun to view him like this. It was fine, he would just suffer the torture alone. As long as he could pitch, he would still be together with Abe-kun. He needed to survive this ordeal.

The roaming hands continue fondling him, it was annoying. And Mihashi was trying to control his misled pheromones. He actually began to think the rough quality of the shoe felt good. He pressed against the body behind him and noticed the growing hardness of the other man near his pelvis. He stopped himself from rubbing it fervently. Because right now, common logic was out of the window, together with self-control.

He doesn't dare to think about Abe-kun any longer. He wasn't fit to think about Abe-kun. Not in this circumstances, he was disgusting.

"Hey, let me have a turn as well! You take the camera!"

"I have something that I want to use on him!"

Mihashi couldn't help but to eavesdrop on the conversation. He felt a jolt from his lower half. He refused to admit it, but he was actually looking forward to the 'something'. He just needed to be touched right now... Needed it so badly that he detested himself for it.

"Yashiro, hold his legs for me."

The one with highlighted hair spoke whilst exchanging places with the former. Mihashi flinched, but doesn't put up a fight, he couldn't. His limbs were maneuvered effortlessly, like a stringed puppet before it's master. Mihashi could see an unidentifiable pink object in his clutches. He looks at him wearily and shook his head, but his body was pulsing for whatever that was heading his way. The salacious position only made it all the more desirable, and Mihashi cried, frustrated and helpless tears.

"Don...Don't... do it..."

He yelps when the man removed his pants, the night breeze was cold against his heated skin. He futilely resisted against the strong grip that spread him open, only to get pulled apart wider. It was chilly... They were observing him, they were laughing at him... Yet he was so pitiably aroused from the ill-treatment, that liquids leaked from every possible escape; tears, sweat, saliva and semen.

And when the silicon did make contact with his flustered flesh, he squirmed.

"Relax, I'm going to switch it on now." was the comment, and follow by an almost sudden vibration.

Vile noises tore out as if an euphonious melody accompanied by Mihashi's ragged, uneven breathes. It was unlike anything he experienced before, previous skepticism were completely wiped into a flawless, perfect white. His brain blanked, the only thing that accompanied the moment was a vulgar wail. And when the touch lifted, he heard the sneers,

"Lets put this in that lewd, shivering hole instead!"

"Hahaha, hey, put this on him too!"

Another object was passed onto the hands of the assaulter, this time it was translucent and circular.

"Heeh, you brought this along as well."

"You're a horrible person."

Mihashi bit his lower lip when said object was strapped on the bottom of his length. The tight squeeze was uncomfortable, but the drug didn't allow him to lose his erection. They weren't done toying with him, not even the least bit. Mihashi felt the silicon being pressed against a very intimate region next, he didn't even have time to express his dissatisfaction before it was violently pushed inside.

And it hurts... His eyes widened and pupils diluted from shock, the shearing was excruciating. The dry friction was rubbing against his inner walls, probably tearing the surrounding delicate skin. It was strange having a foreign object entered him, but what followed was even more agonizing.

He couldn't stifle his voice even if he tried, it started with a gentle buzz before escalating into an aggressive tremble that shook his entire being. The unsettling frequency left him in a chaotic, moaning mess. It hurts so much, yet it felt so... so... good. His muscles clenched around the invading article, spine arched and shoulders tensed,

"T..ahh...ta..ke... it...out" he pants, cringing and tussling against the human confinement.

All the ecstasy pooled into a straining compulsion, shuddering and intensive. He needed release, but the translucent ring prevented so. It was aching so much that he forgot every one of his previous injuries. It hurts... It hurts... It hurts... Rationality, shame and comprehension were completely neglected and locked away, he just needed relief.

Mihashi begged again with tearing eyes, barely distinguishing the vocabulary from meaningless sounds.

"P...lease..." He pleaded and was again reduced to an inapprehensible mess.

"You want to come?" The man taunted, and Mihashi nodded instantly.

"Then say it!"

"I..." Mihashi stutters.

"Face the camera and say it clearly, slut."

He shuts his eyes,

"I...wan...ahh...want..."

There was a familiar ring tone that interrupted him, and Mihashi shuts up immediately. It was his phone that was previously confiscated. Someone was contacting him, his parents?

The bleached hair who held onto it observed the caller ID, and doesn't answer.

"Who is Abe Takaya?" He questioned a second later.

Mihashi's eyes flew open, gaping at the direction of the voice, completely petrified.

"Ab...Abe-kun..." he repeated.

Abe-kun was worried about him! A part of him pranced with joy, but another was absolutely horrified. Abe-kun couldn't have called at a better time.

"Isn't he that catcher?" the bespectacled one probed.

"Le..ave... Abe...Abe-kun alone..." Mihashi mutters between rasps.

"Answer it! Let his dear catcher-kun hear his adulterated performance as well!"

The accept button was pressed and the same customary yell resounded through the speakers,

"Dammit Mihashi, I told you to go right home didn't I? Where the hell did you run off to?"

Mihashi doesn't reply, he bit his lip to subdue whatever reflective sounds that might escape him. He couldn't let Abe-kun know... Abe-kun would be so appalled if he did.

"Yeah Mihashi-chan, why don't you tell him what you're doing" the bespectacled one spoke in contempt.

Mihashi only responded with silence and shook his head agitatedly.

"Oi, Mihashi, who are you with!"

"Looks like our Mihashi-chan needs a little more encouragement."

With that said, the ruthless hands attacked him again, gripping his member and tugging at the tender pink nubs. Mihashi slammed his canines down his inner cheek to muffle the groan which would have registered. He tasted blood oozing out of the fresh wound and felt the soreness when his tongue grazed upon.

He was determined to keep Abe-kun out of the loop.

The group soon lost interest to see their plan foiled. They cut off the line and out of irritation, one punched Mihashi across the cheek.

"You're a really... really...disobedient boy."

Mihashi braced himself for another impact as he saw the fist being raised again. It never converged as the highlighted hair stopped him,

"Forget it. Let's just send the video to his beloved Abe-kun. That'll probably hurt him more than any physical injuries."

And Mihashi retaliated.

"Don't send it!" Mihashi almost yelled.

There was a sadistic snicker on his face as he inched his fingers towards the respective buttons,

"I wonder what should the context be..." He sneered,

"how about..." He paused and cast a quick glance at Mihashi's despairing expression.

"Dear Abe-kun, I hope you'll enjoy this video of me getting ravaged by six men. I had a great time...And I hope you will too, watching me. Insert hearts and smiley faces..."

"No...No!" Mihashi watched his fingers tapped away at the screen and finally fell silent as the message delivered.

"And... Send!"

It was over... Abe-kun was going to hate him... Even after he tried so hard... He couldn't prevent it, he was weak, despicable and so, so, so, disgusting... He deserved to be despised. He could never face Abe-kun again...

He really had fun playing baseball with everyone and he never imagined today would be his last. He sobbed melancholically. Nothing else mattered now, not the assailants, not his despondency. He ignored everything and wasn't even aware when the group had left.

They were probably done with inflicting misery on him, now that they've taken away everything they could...

Mihashi laid on the floor, once again staring blankly into the darkening horizon... And he doesn't hear the repeated ringing of his phone.

* * *

A/n: I feel so bad for leaving Mihashi hanging like this. I sort of have an after story from Abe's pov, but the original prompt ended here. Well, whether or not it'll be written shall be dependent solely on the response of this fiction. /Evil laugher.

Please do R&R my lovelies.


End file.
